


Something You Can't Come Back From

by DaintyDuck_99



Series: Everybody Lives AU [1]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alex Mercer Has Anxiety (Julie and the Phantoms), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Bisexual Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms), F/M, Fluff and Humor, Himbo Luke Patterson (Julie and the Phantoms), Himbo Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms), Idiots in Love, Innuendo, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Non-Explicit Sex, Pansexual Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Pining, Polyamory, Reggie Peters Has ADHD (Julie and The Phantoms), The UST and BST tags are for Luke/Reggie and most of it is in chapter 5, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaintyDuck_99/pseuds/DaintyDuck_99
Summary: Alex forces himself to look up, finding Willie’s inquisitive gaze. “I want to take my time with you,” he admits.“Okay, hotdog,” Willie breathes, “that was a very sweet way to say that you want to court me, but you're tired of your bandmates walking in on us.”Alex could probably grill hotdogs right now with all of the heat blazing from the tips of his ears.Or: The tour bus is small, Alex's bandmates are oblivious himbos, and it's a recipe for some sitcom levels of hijinks.
Relationships: Alex Mercer/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Julie Molina/Luke Patterson, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson/Reggie Peters, Julie Molina/Reggie Peters, Luke Patterson/Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms)
Series: Everybody Lives AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138301
Comments: 39
Kudos: 182





	1. Introduction

His bandmates will be the death of him. 

Not literally—probably. He and Julie share the burden of common sense, which is usually enough to yank Luke and Reggie away from their impulses whenever they veer into dangerous territory. 

No, Alex is going to die in a fit of anxiety and embarrassment. ‘Mortified’ has its roots in the Latin word for death for a reason. Even Julie’s put a nail in that coffin, and it’s only a matter of time before Alex suffocates in the tiny box of stress that is his mind. 

A familiar hand, chapped from strong winds, settles on top of Alex’s, stilling the impromptu tapdance of his fingers. Alex realizes that the box isn’t sealed, climbs out, returns to the present. 

“What’s got you so worked up, hotdog?” Willie slides into the booth beside him, pressing their legs together. He leaves their hands anchored on the tabletop. 

“You wrestle a tainted street dog away from your friend and toss it into oncoming traffic one time,” Alex sighs, but the uptick of his mouth probably betrays him. 

Willie chuckles lowly, and Alex knows that Willie must hold some genuine affection for him, because it really wasn’t that funny. 

He’s got his hair pulled up into a bun today, showing off the sharp angles of his face. Warmth shines from the depths of his dark brown eyes. 

Alex will never tire of basking in his orbit, this beautiful man who coaxes him to reveal every part of himself, who accepts and smoothes out the creases of the pieces he’s kept tucked away. 

Willie doesn’t push, but he doesn’t encourage further deflection, either. He waits, humming a snippet of what sounds like "Stand Tall". His left hand, the one that isn’t holding Alex’s, fiddles with the keys he usually wears around his neck. 

“I just—I know we’re on tour, and things probably won’t be so hectic once it’s over, but I guess I’m worried that we aren’t going to see each other very much after this. 

“And yes, we’re dating,” Alex reaffirms hurriedly to iron out the wrinkle forming between Willie’s eyebrows, “but what if we’re still too busy for us? I want—” 

Alex forces himself to look up, finding Willie’s inquisitive gaze. “I want to take my time with you,” he admits. 

“Okay,” Willie breathes, “there seems to be a bit of underlying anxiety about our relationship as a whole, and we can unpack that later, but that was a very sweet way to say that you’re tired of your bandmates walking in on us.” 

Alex could probably grill hotdogs _right now_ with all of the heat blazing from the tips of his ears. 

Willie hums, squeezing Alex’s hand when he tries to extract it. “Oh, and of saying that you want to court me,” he adds. He’s quickly becoming adept at deciphering Alex’s indirect statements. 

“I mean,” Alex starts once he regains his voice, which still comes out a little pitchy, “it has to be driving you crazy, too. Like, sure. It’s a fairly small bus. And it’s not like we haven’t glimpsed...whatever sort of relationship geometry that the others have going on—”

“I’m pretty sure it’s still a triangle,” Willie muses, “though I’d bet that they’re on their way to being an actual throuple. If Luke and Reggie don’t make out on stage one of these days, I’ll eat my board. And Julie will probably, I don’t know, eat _them_ , but not in the fun way.” 

Alex successfully reclaims his fingers as this spiel is happening, because hand tapping is not going to be enough to combat the stress of having this conversation. 

He climbs over Willie to get out of the booth and starts pacing in a small circle. 

“Okay, you should never say any of those things again, especially ‘throuple.’” Alex runs a hand through his hair as he walks. 

“But yeah, I agree, so it’s not like I would bet against you. I do have eyes, so.”

“Right?!” Willie bobs his head. “I mean, Bobby’s the guitar tech, and even he doesn’t get to handle Luke’s guitar as much as Reggie does.” 

“Don’t,” Alex warns as Willie’s face lights up. “We are not making that a euphemism.” 

“Too late,” Willie snickers. “You’re right, though,” he says once he’s recovered, “running into each other during—” 

“Intimate moments?” Alex suggests. He’s still tracking a circle in the thin, tan carpet. 

Willie shrugs. “Yeah. It’s getting a little ridiculous.” 

“I don’t know what else we could try,” Alex mutters, talking partially to himself at this point, “considering that even the sock trick didn’t work…” 

He finally gives up on pacing and sits down across from Willie, who tangles their legs together. 

“As much as I would rather do anything else,” he starts, “I think we’re going to have to run through the last few scenarios and try to come up with a pattern, or things we haven’t tried yet.” 

“Honestly? That solution has so many sitcom vibes that it just might be crazy enough to work.” 

“As if you don’t thrive on the chaos of _It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia_ ,” Alex snorts. 

“I swear, if someone’d told me years ago that _Sunny_ was going to positively represent the LGBT community and _Supernatural_ was going to end in the most homophobic and half-assed way ever, I’d probably—have an aneurysm or—I’m digressing,” he chastises himself. 

“Should I look dramatically out the window like a flashback is happening?” 

Willie’s grin, which has grown to reveal his teeth, takes the sting out of the teasing. 

Alex responds with the exaggerated eye roll he learned from Julie, the inexplicably fond one that means _you’re an idiot, but you’re my idiot._

The smile that he wears, however, is small and unique.

“Let’s just think out loud, for now.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title Credit: [Rites of Passage](https://open.spotify.com/track/35K6AQNSrfSclIICvAQrkA?si=y_3RWmdWSGqdUvbK1eC4OA) by Third Eye Blind


	2. Reggie

“Are you sure we should be doing this here?” 

Alex can’t help but to ask, although it’s hard to think clearly when Willie slides his lips over Alex’s collarbone like a brand, possessive and scalding. Julie’s going to kill them if they rip the sink out of the wall, but it’s worth it to see Willie’s toned thighs flex against the cheap ceramic.

Alex can’t decide how he feels about seeing himself in the mirror, though, so he rarely looks, focusing on putting his hands everywhere he can reach, instead. 

“I think the opportunity to be concerned about privacy set sail when we lost our pants,” Willie mumbles against Alex’s skin. 

When his mouth fastens around one of Alex’s nipples, any verbal response he might’ve had dissolves into a moan. 

A burst of cold air blasts against his back as the door is flung open, and Alex buries his face in Willie’s hair as he pulls back. 

“Oh god, Alex? What did he eat? He's allergic to pineapple—oh. Not a first-aid emergency.” 

Reggie’s voice gets slower and smaller as he realizes what’s happening. Alex is still blind to everything but the thick forest of Willie’s luxurious hair, but he can imagine what Reggie looks like, eyes wide yet unseeing, startled.

“Did you really think it sounded like an emergency?” Willie asks without any malice, only curiosity. They could be discussing the tone of a text message, he sounds so calm. 

_ Good for him _ , Alex decides. In the meantime, Alex is going to let himself sink into the throes of hysteria until he can’t feel anything, a la anxiety-riddled ostrich.

“Moans are moans, man!” Clacking punctuates the statement. Reggie must be fiddling with one of his beaded necklaces. “They all kind of sound the same! That definitely could’ve been a death by angry fruit moan. Pineapples try to eat us back, you know, even we non-allergic folk. 

“They have this enzyme that digests proteins—” 

Alex has never been so grateful for one of Reggie’s story tangents. Soon, Alex’ll find the courage to lift his head annnnd it’s over. He’s dead, his soul has ascended, maybe they’ll use the shower curtain as a shroud for his body. At least it’s his color. 

“—but like you can’t tell me you’ve never thought you hurt someone during sex because they made a potentially injured noise, so you stopped to ask if they were okay but they got annoyed because you stopped annnd you guys are probably annoyed that I interrupted you.

“Yup, yeah, this is getting a little weird. Um, I’ll see you guys at the sound check.” 

Reggie’s voice becomes more distant, like he’s backing out of the room. 

“We’re not upset, just knock next time, please?” Alex manages to say, the classic mom friend anxiety override. 

His voice still comes out strangled, but he doesn’t want Reggie to think that they’re mad at him, or something. Alex even unburies his face enough to be heard, and he glimpses Reggie’s hand on the door handle in the mirror’s reflection.

“Thanks for trying to help me, though, Reg.” 

“Of course!” he calls back warmly. The door almost closes, but then he pops his head back in. 

“One more thing, sorry. If you find the toothpicks, let me know. I swear, Luke’s hoarding them all in here somewhere, and it’s really hard to build a messy sandwich without them. Oh, and uh.”

Reggie’s gaze darts to the shower curtain, and pink splotches, lighter than the curtain, are quickly spreading beneath his eyes, staining his cheeks. “You have nice deltoids, Alex.” 

“Thank you, Reginald,” Alex drawls, unsure of what to do with that information, let alone what’s transpired in the past few minutes. 

“He’s cute,” Willie laughs after the door has firmly been closed once more. “And the set of lungs on that man, god. It’s a shame that he’s already so invested in other people. We could’ve had some fun with him.” 

“I love him, he’s the sweetest person I know, but I think he and I would clash too much if we were that—um, close.” 

Willie smirks at Alex, which does nothing to alleviate the rapid tapping of his right foot. 

“But you’ve thought about it, huh?” 

Alex mentally adds a third type of moan to the list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play a game called: How Many Ways Can Dainty Describe Reggie's Blush? 
> 
> (Several. There will definitely be more, we're all so obsessed with it, lmao.)


	3. Julie

As usual, Alex has very important questions, but he’s having trouble vocalizing any of them. Willie keeps swallowing his queries before they can leave his lips. 

“Relax, hotdog,” he soothes once they finally break apart, “we locked the door, remember?” 

They’ve even graduated to getting horizontal, this time, though Alex refuses to remove his shirt since the floor is probably _filthy_ , some bands are known for eating weird snacks, what if he finds peanuts in his armpit later or something, or someone else did what they’re doing, just, ugh. 

Nope, no, they’re also laying on his jacket, it’s fine. Surely, the thick denim with strategically placed holes and rips—it’s trendy, great for layering, and fits his aesthetic, so anyone older than thirty who scoffs at it can kindly fuck off—will protect them from ancient mnm's and body fluids.

Besides, dry-cleaning is totally still a thing. Yeah. And they locked the door. No lingering unease or sarcasm here, no sirree. 

A hand cradles Alex’s jaw.

Heat blooms there under Willie’s fingers; he drops a lingering kiss on Alex’s lips like a rose petal dripping with sweet water.

“You’re still thinking very loudly,” Willie whispers. 

He’s ethereal as he leans back, hair spilling liquid copper under the small skylight. He’s nothing but taut muscle and warm skin and all smiles; he’s Alex’s everything. 

“Dios mio!” 

Until a very Julie-shaped mass starts shrieking from the hatch in the ceiling, that is. 

Alex grabs Willie around the waist and rolls them over so that he’s shielding his body, dirty floor and the ghost of old trail mix be damned. 

Not that Julie would swoop down and impale them like a demonic, homophobic clown, but he was startled and he’s trying to be chivalrous, alright? 

“Boundaries!” Alex twists his head and yelps back, because isn’t that her whole thing? 

“BOUNDARIES?” 

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. 

“Hey, Julie.” Willie waves with the arm that isn’t wrapped around Alex, unflappable as ever.

“Why are you on the roof?” he asks when she doesn’t respond.

Her glare becomes downright murderous, and she might decide to pull a Pennywise on them, after all. 

“Why am I—why are you in my dressing room? Okay, better question. Why are you grinding on the floor in my dressing room trailer?” 

“Were,” Alex quickly corrects her before his brain catches up with him. 

“Wait. Your dressing room?” 

He and Willie share a look of dawning horror. Glancing around the small trailer, the wrongness starts to leap out at Alex. 

A purple garment bag is draped over the makeup chair, not his signature pink. Way more makeup than he ever uses is piled on the counter, and someone, possibly Luke, has doodled a dahlia in the corner of the mirror with lipstick. 

Alex immediately begins to stutter out apologies, and Willie picks them up when they start to fizzle out. 

“Oh—oh my god, we’re so—”

“We’re super sorry, Julie, it won’t happen again—”

She holds a hand out to staunch the flood of earnest begging. 

“Guys, I get it, now. It was a mistake. I just assumed the door was jammed and spent a ridiculous amount of time climbing up here, so some of the blame is on me. Like, a very small amount.” 

She pauses as if they're in a dignified enough position to argue, and she might be enjoying this just a little too much, now.

“The dot of the 'i' in himbos,” she clarifies, further rubbing in the fact that Alex and Willie apparently never learned how to read.

She immediately removes the sting and proves that she's the coolest person ever to make up for it, though.

“That’s me. The rest is all you. But I’m used to it, and I love you.”

“Jules…” Alex croaks, “we love you, too.” 

“Don’t make him cry after you've insulted us,” Willie scolds half-heartedly, rubbing his face against Alex’s cheek. 

Julie shakes her head, but she’s smiling. 

“Okay. You have twenty minutes. Reggie and I are supposed to paint each other’s nails, anyway. When I get back, you’d better be in your places doing what you need to do, but I don’t care what you do in the meantime.”

“Are you sure that _you_ won’t be doing other things?” Willie calls. 

“Maybe a little bit. Why, are you jealous?” she snarks right back. 

Willie doesn’t miss a beat. “Maybe a little bit.” 

He winks, although Alex doubts Julie can tell from so far away. Alex rolls his eyes.

“How will you get down?” 

Again, Alex asks the important questions. 

Julie shrugs. “The same way I got up here,” she answers cryptically. 

“That doesn’t—okay.” Alex gives up. 

On the bright side, no one bothers them for the next quarter of an hour, and Willie’s sugar kisses cling to Alex’s lips for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! :) I was really tired when I first posted this, but I've cleaned it up a bit. I do a very different kind of writing for work and I was a little drained yesterday, but I was too excited not to share this with you all. 
> 
> The mnm thing is a reference to Van Halen! When they'd perform, they would request a bowl of mnms with the brown ones removed. I'm not really sure why, though. 
> 
> Also, I imagine that the hatch in the dressing room roof is like the ones that they have on public school buses, lol.


	4. Luke

To be fair, they don’t  _ actually _ use the sock method, and they sort of jinx themselves.

In the end, Alex grabs some of those fancy little “do not disturb” door hangers and slaps them on both the main door and the bathroom door, heart knocking against his sternum like a hummingbird trying to break free. 

“Is that one really necessary?” Willie’s voice floats from the bed, bemused. 

“How many times have we walked in on one another? Somewhere in like, the double digits?”

Alex marches back and forth in front of the bathroom door as he launches into his spiel. He counts on his fingers as he goes through each of his points.

“Plus, our rooms are connected. Let me reiterate—we’re sharing a bathroom, which we already know is a recipe for disaster. Most of us are dating, and those of us who aren’t generate enough sexual tension to power the western seaboard.” 

Willie leans up on his elbows, shirt already half unbuttoned. Julie had threaded his hair into an intricate bread during lunch, and Alex itches to mess it up despite all of his misgivings.

He slows his pace and wills his pulse to do the same, walking over to the end of the bed.

“It’s like we’re tempting fate, at this point,” Alex concludes. 

“‘Lex, come on. You make it sound like some cosmic deity has it out for us.” 

Willie opens his arms, a wordless invitation, and Alex climbs onto the bed to join his embrace. He rests his cheek on the warm expanse of Willie’s chest.

“Yeah. God is a woman and she hates me. I should have it put on a shirt,” Alex mumbles into Willie’s collarbone.

Willie plays with the hair at the nape of Alex’s neck, then switches to stroking down his spine. 

“It’ll be okay. You put up the signs. And you’re missing the positive here,” Willie murmurs, eyes impossibly dark.

“We finally have a full-sized bed.” 

Alex can’t argue with that. 

Time dissolves into golden skin and white sheets, measured in motes of sunlight and secret sounds and the thrumming of Alex’s blood. This performance is solely theirs, a sacred duet. 

Based on the state of Willie’s hair afterwards, Alex would say that they rocked it.

As they’re sprawled together on the bed, Willie randomly bursts into a fit of giggles. 

Alex  _ adores  _ him. He grins. “What?” 

“I think Bobby has one of the rooms below us. We should totally start making weird sounds just to mess with him.” 

Alex doesn’t condone this idea, but it does make him snort.

“He’s a decent guy, Wills. If you’re going to start a prank war or whatever, why not target someone who’d want to participate? You know, like Luke or Reggie.” 

“But Bobby is so easy to mess with,” Willie observes. 

“Do you know a single neurodivergent person that isn’t easy to mess with?” Alex counters. 

Willie must not have a good response for that, because he resorts to wrestling, rolling on top of Alex to tickle his armpits, probably, and that’s not happening, or Alex will be screwed. 

He’s just managed to pin Willie back to the bed when they hear— 

“Hey have you guys seen my AHRGH—” 

Alex yelps and springs off of the bed with all of the grace of a startled cat, which is to say none.

Luke is rooted in the entryway of the bathroom, covering his face with his hands. Julie and Reggie must have decked out his arms and hands with their rings and bracelets, which would be cute if this situation wasn’t a little mortifying.

With all of the yelling and thumping, at least Willie has probably achieved his goal of messing with Bobby, Alex thinks. 

He scrambles back under the covers, all knees and elbows. Willie has simply covered himself with a pillow, still lounging on top of them. 

“Dude,” Luke groans, slivers of hazel peering through his fingers. 

“We did put up a sign,” Willie points out, “you could’ve read it.” 

“I knew I forgot to do something,” Alex mumbles into the mattress, “this is karma.” 

“Okay, but it’s an emergency! I thought maybe you were napping since the door wasn’t locked!” 

Luke’s hands slide up into his hair, tousling the floppy fringes even more than usual. He sighs.

“This isn’t one of those ‘emergencies’ like when that guy gave Julie directions to the lobby, is it?” Willie asks, suspicious. 

“Accurate directions, I might add,” Alex chimes in. 

Luke scowls, stepping fully into the room. His hands fly quicker than his mouth as he works himself into a minor rant.

“He was creepy! Who wears a velvet cape and tophat in 2020, especially when it’s like 80 degrees outside? I wasn’t about to let P.T. Barnum kidnap my girlfriend.”

“You were only about to get us permanently banned from this entire chain of hotels,” Alex says with all of the sarcasm he can muster. 

Invoking Luke’s protective streak has definitely made them all more at ease, moving them back into their normal territory of friendly banter. 

“I wonder if he was the owner,” Willie muses, “I bet rich people dress really weird like that.” 

“Maybe,” Luke relents, still glowering a little. 

His gaze roves about the room as he starts to deflate. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for barging in, though. If I give you guys a moment, could you help me?” 

“Sure, Luke. What’s your emergency?” Alex inquires gently. 

Luke worries his lip, eyebrows scrunched. 

“I can’t find my notebook. I swear, it was in the top of my suitcase, but it’s not there. What if I left it back in a completely different state?” 

“I’m sure we’ll find it,” Willie soothes. 

“Yeah, maybe Reggie took it to slip a new song in there and he forgot to put it back,” Alex suggests. 

When they unearth it from beneath the sleeping forms of Reggie and Julie a little while later, where it’d been wedged between their beating hearts, Alex guesses that maybe God is just a little too fond of messing with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I only ended up using [Immortal_Dreams’](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immortal_Dreams) idea for Luke’s section. They also write for JatP, so feel free to check them out! :)
> 
> Also, I keep seeing videos where people edit Trump out of his Home Alone 2 cameo, so I might have slipped in a reference, lol.


	5. Solution

“I think I have a solution,” Alex claims, breaking Willie out of his reverie. 

He arches a single eyebrow, propping his chin in his hand. 

“Do tell, hotdog.” 

Willie nods as Alex explains, and he doesn’t interrupt, not even to tease, which indicates that the idea might actually have some merit.

“Man, I can’t believe that an answer was right under our noses the entire time. Like, we’re not cavemen. We have technology.” 

“When four out of five of us aren’t being illiterate,” Alex amends. 

He glances down at his phone and discovers that they’ve been talking for way longer than he thought. There are several missed messages from Julie, Luke, and Reggie. 

Hers are all written out with the occasional abbreviation, whereas Luke and Reggie’s have devolved into strings of exclamation points (Luke) or emojis (Reggie). 

“Speak of the devil,” Alex mutters, showing the messages to Willie, who shrugs. 

“I mean, they could’ve called. Sounds like we need to get our butts over to Giovanni’s, though.” 

Alex sends a quick OMW to Julie, and they head out hand-in-hand. 

He tries not to mentally rehearse pitching his solution during the walk, as it really isn’t that big of a deal, but he ends up running through it a few times, anyway. 

Luke is the one to flag them down once they step into the Italian place, as he’s the only one who can stand up with how the three of them are already sandwiched into one side of the booth, having snagged the end seat. 

“Hey guys! We haven’t ordered you anything yet since we don’t know what Willie likes or might be allergic to, but we told them you were coming,” Reggie greets from his spot in the middle. 

Julie waves with her fork, as she’s drinking from a glass of water.

They’ve all ordered exactly what Alex would’ve picked for them, he notes as he slides into the free seat across from Julie. Pizza for Luke, a meatball sub for Reggie, and spaghetti for Julie. 

Willie follows, pressing their legs together despite the fact that he doesn’t have to sit that close. Alex smiles and curls their pinkies together. His ears feel warm again, but at least Willie thinks it’s cute, so he can’t complain.

Alex prepares himself to blurt out his idea once the waitress has walked away with his order, as they are all adults here and he should just rip off the bandaid, but then Reggie accidentally slops marinara sauce down his chin and Luke can’t contain himself, so Alex misses his moment. 

“You always make such a mess when it comes to food, dude. I still don’t know how you got mustard on the microwave while you were making a bologna sandwich that one time.” 

“Yeah, well, it’d help if you didn’t hoard the toothpicks to fuel your oral fixation. They’re meant to hold food together and clean your teeth, not just sit in your mouth,” Reggie retorts, setting his sandwich down to grab a napkin. 

“He has a point,” Julie says, and it makes sense, Alex thinks. Anyone who spent a lot of time starting at Luke’s mouth would probably notice something like that. 

Luke’s eyes flare with a dangerous spark that ignites with the curl of his lip. He licks his thumb in the most drawn-out way possible, swirling his tongue up and over the side. 

The napkin is bunched between Reggie’s fingers, forgotten. 

Luke then leans closer to Reggie, twisting even though they’re already squeezed into the both, and drags his thumb along the expanse of his bottom lip, carefully catching the sauce there. Because Luke has no chill, he licks his thumb  _ again  _ before he pulls away. 

“You’re welcome,” he quips, voice gruff. “Do you want me to clean your teeth, too?” 

Reggie is absolutely possessed, irises dark and ringed with green like Saturn. Pink pools across his cheekbones, the closest to red that Alex has ever seen (and Reggie blushes  _ a lot _ ). He licks his lips, tracing the path of Luke’s thumb. 

Julie’s hand twitches on the table, and Alex wonders if she’s resisting the urge to push their heads together. He totally gets it, and he’s not even dating them. 

Willie is the one to diffuse the tension. He tilts his head at Luke.

“Are you guys really fighting over toothpicks?” 

“I don’t think it could really be misconstrued as—” Alex starts to mumble, but Willie kicks him under the table. 

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, and his eyes get wide. Where he’d been so suave and confident only seconds ago, he’s now panicked, hands fluttering around Reggie without actually touching him. 

“I’m sorry, Reg, that was probably way too harsh. I shouldn’t have committed to doubling down so hard, are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” he rasps, brain evidently back online. Julie leans up to kiss his cheek as most of the color ebbs away. He rests his head on top of hers for a moment, finally releasing the napkin to grasp Luke’s forearm, instead. 

“It’s okay. What I said was a little mean, too, sorry.” 

Luke bumps their shoulders together, smiling in the same way that he almost always looks at both of them, like he’s sailing on the high of their very existence.

Alex knows that they shouldn’t meddle, and surely Julie has been talking to them both separately about their blatant feelings for one another, but it’s getting a little painful to watch. 

He might as well trade one mildly awkward situation for another. Alex clears his throat. 

“I have something to tell you guys.” 

“A text code? That’s a great idea,” Julie comments once he’s managed to get through his explanation again (with a little help from Willie and a minor interruption from the waitress). 

“Should it be like, a word, or a number?” Reggie asks.

Luke and Willie’s eyes light up simultaneously, and Alex groans into his chicken alfredo. 

“We are  _ not  _ making the ‘do not disturb sexy times’ text code 69.” 

(The code does end up being 69, but at least it’s effective.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke: Basically asks Reggie if he wants to make out  
> Everyone else at the table: [holy shit you fucking killed him, dude](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9GSMdgoWPY8)
> 
> I had so much fun writing this story, you guys. <3 Thanks for reading!


End file.
